


Babysitter's Club

by IbelieveinMarkNutt



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Yuri and Beka are cute kids, Yuri is Victor's baby brother, Yuuri and Victor are highschoolers, rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-01 11:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11485113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IbelieveinMarkNutt/pseuds/IbelieveinMarkNutt
Summary: It's been four months after Yuuri's student exchange and he's been enlisted into helping his boyfriend babysit his hot-tempered little brother for the weekend.It should be easy enough, just one kid to look after, but Yuri has other plans.





	1. Fic

“I’m really sorry, Yuuri,” said Victor for what had to be the hundredth time, and Yuuri was at the point where he had to fight himself from openly eye rolling at his puppy-eyed boyfriend.

“It’s okay, Victor,” he replied, exasperated but still smiling fondly, “We can just go next week, okay? The movie theatre isn’t going anywhere and we’re still spending the night together.”

Winter was cold in Russia in a way Yuuri was still unfamiliar with. He had hated the bitter winters of Hasetsu, but he knew once he returned to his little home town at the end of his student exchange, he would praise the cold winds he once cursed at.

His feet felt heavy as he forced them through the snow yet-to-be shoveled, every breath he took sending spirals of white mist flying from his mouth and reddened nose. He couldn’t blame Victor for dragging him out to pick up his brother from school, he had given Yuuri the option to stay at home, but of course Yuuri’s Japanese sensibilities had him insisting he’d take the trip out with him to aid in child care.

Yuri could be a handful after all.

A particularly violent wind blew through the street, and Yuuri pulled his scarf up to his nose with a shiver. He looked to Victor, and still to that day found disbelief in his passive expression, smiling to him through the bitterness of their surroundings.

The grey silk of his hair whipped around his bare face, the majority of his long locks tied up in a ponytail on top of his head. Yuuri thought it was beautiful, just like Victor’s face.

“Too cold,” commented Yuuri, looking down at his wellies, the rubber covered in icy slush.

Victor laughed, replying, “But, my _zolotse,_ you love to skate.”

“Ice arenas do not have the wind!” Yuuri smiled behind his scarf despite his argumentative tone.

“You will get used to it,” said Victor.

“You have been saying that for months, Victor,” reminded Yuuri, trying to push his hands further into his pockets, if it was even possible. He wished he had brought his gloves, eying up the grey cotton covering Victor’s hands in envy. He stayed quiet.

They turned the street corner onto the road where Yuri’s kindergarten was situated, the snow easier to walk on there thanks to passing parents squashing it down with their feet. The playground had been scraped clean, salt grit leaving the outside visible and safe to run around on. Yuuri liked what they’d done with the playground, hopscotch and other games tarmacked down in pretty colours into the concrete.

“Ah, where is he?” Victor spoke aloud, glancing about.

Yuuri looked about at all the children running around for something to do as they waited for their parents to collect them. “He is probably just playing,” offered Yuuri, able to tell Victor was a little worried from his posture.

“He usually waits here.” Victor gestured to the gates. “He is always wanting to leave straight away. It is strange he is not.”

“We’ll find him.” Yuuri rubbed Victor’s arm, walking with him a little further into the playground-version of armageddon.

Yuri’s tight-lipped teacher stood in the centre of her organised chaos, fur-lined coat blowing in the wind. Her hair was scraped back tight against her head, naturally pronounced cheek bones contoured and striking.

Her hard gaze had Yuuri’s stomach twisting nervously. This was Victor’s little brother’s kindergarten teacher? She looked like she belonged in the detention hall of a secondary school for badly behaved teens.

The teacher’s gaze fell over the couple, and she recognised Victor immediately. Her voice sharp as she turned away to call across the concrete, “ _Yurochka,_ _tvoy brat prishel._ ”*

(*“Yurochka, your brother is here.”)

“ _Da, idet!_ ”* yelled back a voice. Out came Yuri from behind a mass of kids, his blonde hair whipping around his face as he ran over, pulling a taller boy Yuuri did not recognise with him.

(*“Yes, coming!”)

“See? He’s fine,” teased Yuuri as Yuri and his friend approached.

“Coming from the one who always worries,” teased back Victor.

Victor thanked Yurio’s teacher formally in his native tongue, the woman’s gaze softening enough to give him a nod before she was distracted by a few boys who were becoming too rowdy for her liking. Her heeled boots clicked as he went to break them up, a storm Yuuri would not have liked to reckon with.

Yuuri gave Victor’s little brother a smile that was not returned. Yuuri glanced away and pulled up his scarf, smiling wider behind the fabric in amusement. The teenager knew very well the five-year-old wasn’t his biggest fan, and this was an attempt at trying to intimidate him. It was adorable.

Yuri’s friend appeared passive despite having been practically dragged over by his sleeve, carrying along a sports bag on his shoulders that looked too big to be a simple schoolbag.

“ _U tebya tam bol'shaya sumka, Otabek_ ,” commented Victor.

(“That’s a big bag you have there, Otabek,”)

Otabek gave a single nod in agreement, expression unchanging.

Yuuri hadn’t met this friend before, although in retrospect Yurio didn’t appear to have many, if any, friends really. He often kept to himself at the _skating for under 5's_ class, a little group that was run at the local ice arena Yuuri helped out at on Saturday mornings. Yurio only held interest in being better than everyone else; certainly not holding friendships.

 _“On ostalsya na vykhodnykh.”*_ Yurio informed his older brother.

(*”He’s staying the weekend.”)

“Did you ask permission first?” said Victor.

“ _Mama skazala, chto_ -”* began Yuri.

(*“Mama said that-”)

“English,” interrupted Victor, “So Yuuri can understand better.”

Yuuri was thankful for this. He was starting to understand more Russian, but the language was still complex, and he had only been there three months with little previous experience. Any attempt Victor made to make conversation easier for him was appreciated.

Yurio, however, did not look very appreciative. He blew out his cheeks angrily. “Mama says yes.”

“Oh, did she?” Victor raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Yes,” Yurio repeated, crossing his little arms across his chest.

His defiance made Yuuri huff out a laugh through his nose, which only seemed to infuriate Yurio to no end, who stamped his foot and gave Yuuri the stink eye. “No laughing, fatty,” he spat.

Yuuri couldn’t find it in him to be offended. He forced back another laugh from bubbling up, watching the tyke.

“That’s no way to talk to Yuuri,” scolded Victor after a gasp, “say you are sorry.”

Yurio narrowed his eyes up at his brother.

 _“_ _Yurochka_ _,_ ” Victor warned.

Yurio’s look hardened into a glare.

“Don’t worry, Victor,” said Yuuri behind his scarf, eyes friendly, “It does not bother me.”

“No.” Victor shook his head, “He shouldn’t speak to you as such. Apologise or I am taking Otabek home.”

Yuri stared. Victor stared back. Otabek let out a yawn. Stalemate.

“Okay _, Davay, Otabeka-”_ began Victor before he was interrupted.

“Fine!” spat out Yuri, the child grumbling under his breath in Russian, treating Yuuri to his glare as he spoke through bared teeth, “Sorry, Yuuri. ”

“That’s okay, Yurio,” replied Yuuri cheerily. He couldn’t really fault him, he was getting a little plumper thanks to his host mother’s home cooking, after all.

“ _Yuri_ is my name,” said Yurio.

“I thought you liked that nickname,” intervened Victor.

Yuuri held back another smile as Yurio’s cheeks blew up again, clenching his little fists. “Stupid name! Stupid you!” he yelled.

Yuri glared a few moments to ensure they had both heard, making a noise of annoyance when he wasn’t treated with any form of upset in response. He stormed away through the slush, grabbing Otabek’s hand and dragging him away after him.

Otabek walked along with his friend, bag bouncing against his back, needing considerably less strides thanks to his longer legs.

There was a pause.

“...So, I was thinking of making that _Katsudon_ for dinner tonight,” began Yuuri, and Victor laughed, wrapping his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder affectionately.

“Anything you want, my love.”

Yuuri smiled up at him, and of course, as loving as always, Victor smiled back. They started walked after the pair.

-

Although Yuuri could tell he gave it his best shot at hiding his intentions, Yurio slowed considerably to allow them to catch up to him and Otabek, even going as far as to hold onto Victor’s hand without prompting when they approached the main road. They were back into the deeper snow territory that came with the direction of the Nikiforov house.

“You want to press the button?” Victor asked his brother, lifting Yuri up before he could answer.

Yuri complained, but ultimately pushed it, staring up at the traffic lights in anticipation of when they could cross.

Otabek took hold of Yuuri’s hand before the teen could suggest it, Yuuri glancing down to find the little boy’s face staring impassively ahead, too waiting for the green light.

“How long have you and Yurio been friends?” he asked Otabek conversationally.

Otabek looked up briefly; but Yuuri was ultimately ignored.

“Okay, then…” Yuuri mumbled awkwardly, his hand feeling extra chilled outside the enclosed space of his pocket. He was amazed everyday how little clothing Russians could wear compared to himself and stay warm. He guessed it must be a mixture of acclimatisation and genes.

His hand was released once they were back on pavement on the other side. Yuuri joined Victor’s side again as Otabek and Yurio dashed off ahead once again, never straying too far from the couple.

“Yuuri, where are your gloves?” gasped Victor when he saw Yuuri’s bare hand.

“Don’t worry,” replied Yuuri, “I just left them in my other coat, it’s not a big deal.” It was a big deal, Yuuri’s hands were frozen solid.

Victor went to pull off his own gloves. “Here, put these on.”

Yuuri shook his head, hands coming out to stop him from taking them off. “No, Victor, you need those.”

“Yuuri, take them.”

“Victor, I said no.”

“Yuuri, you can’t-”

*“ _My mozhem poyti v park?_ ” Yuri interrupted them before things to escalate into an argument over who needed Victor’s gloves more.

(*”Can we go to the park?”)

They both came to a standstill, Yuuri looking up to see they’d reached the gates to the neighbourhood park, all the equipment covered in thick layers of snow. Yuuri stuffed his hands into his pockets whilst Victor was distracted.

“English,” reminded Victor.

Yurio took a visible breath in and out, calming himself so it was more likely he’d get what he wanted. “Can we play?” he tried again. Otabek nodded in agreement, halfway through pushing open the gate.

Victor looked back to Yuuri in question.

Yuuri wanted to shake his head, to say it was too cold and they could come back tomorrow when he was better dressed. Instead, of course, he shrugged.

Victor smiled and turned back to his brother. He hummed in faux thought, smirking, letting them wait in anticipation.

“Vitya!” complained Yuri.

“Okay, okay,” said Victor, “five minutes-”

The kids were off before he could finish his sentence. They dropped their bags in the snow, running off together into the snowy wonderland. Yuuri picked up their discarded bags and moved them to a bench where they wouldn’t get as damp. Victor went to take Otabek’s luggage from him.

“It’s okay, Victor, I have them,” Yuuri said.

Victor shook his head, giving a pretty smile. “Nonsense, Yuuri,” he was affectionate, “let me help you.”

Yuuri, rather predictably, gave in after a little stare, letting Victor carry the bag the two feet to the bench so he would feel useful. Yuuri held back his trembles.

“I’m going to buy you a pair of gloves for every coat you own, you know,” Victor told him, which produced a little giggle out of Yuuri through chattering teeth.

“Otabek, look!” Yurio exclaimed, drawing Yuuri’s attention, tugging Otabek’s sleeve over to it, *“ _Eto velosiped_!”

(*“It’s a bike!”)

Otabek mumbled back something too low for Yuuri to understand. He helped brush the snow off the tricycle, helping Yurio pull it upright.

“Why would someone leave that?” Yuuri commented. The ends of his fingers were starting to numb in his pockets, regretting not talking gloves when he had the chance, hoping the visit would be short so they could get to the warmth of his boyfriend’s house sooner rather than later.

Victor tucked a piece of fringe behind his ear. “Maybe they did not wish to push it back through the snow,” he suggested, “They will come back for it.”

“If it is not ours maybe we should not use it.” Yuuri looked a little nervous.

Victor waved him off, the kids already on the bike. “Don’t be so worried, if they minded they would have taken it with them.”

Yuuri guessed he’d just have to trust him. They stood together and watched Otabek struggle to push the pedals against the build up of the snow for a while. Yurio gave him words of encouragement in Russian, arms wrapped around Otabek’s middle.

The silence between Yuuri and Victor was comfortable.

“You and Yurio both look so unalike,” Yuuri aired a random thought that popped into his head, “You wouldn’t be able to say you were brothers.”

“We are only step-brothers,” shared Victor, “I thought you had known that already.”

Yuuri raised his brows and shook his head, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I had not.”

Victor continued, “ _Papa_ married Yurio’s _mama_ when he was a baby.”

Yuuri made a nose of realisation. “That is why Yurio is your grandfather’s favourite? Because he is not your father’s father?”

“Yes.” Victor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, “but as I have said, this suits me fine, it’s peaceful at home when he goes to his _Dedushka’s_ for the weekend.”

Yuuri returned the smile, looking back to the subject of their discussions, Yurio, who was still giving his wholehearted efforts into Otabek’s struggle through his yelling.

There was another lull in conversation, the wind blowing through the trees, knocking snow from the leaves.

“How do you think they would fair on a motorcycle?” Victor asked.

“I don’t think they would get very far.” Yuuri smiled in amusement.

Mischief glimmered in Victor’s eyes. “Maybe we should help them.”

Yuuri didn’t object, stuffing his hands deeper in his pockets and trudging after Victor, wellies dragging heavy through the sludge. They reached the boys who by this point had made it about a couple of inches across the playground.

Victor grabbed the back of the trike and began to push, Yurio making a cheer at the movement before he realized it wasn't Otabek pushing them forward.

" _Vitya_ , let go!" he yelled over his shoulder, angry.

Otabek appeared equally as unimpressed, pushing against the pedals defiantly in an attempt to get away from Victor's aid.

Yuuri shivered behind them, staying out of it so far. He pulled his scarf back up to shield his face.

" _Vitya_!" complained Yuri again, gripping onto Otabek's shirt.

Victor just smiled, pushing them along steadily. "Sorry, am I interrupting?" he asked innocently.

Yurio yelled loudly in frustration. “ _Da!_ ”

"I didn't mean to ruin your date," said Victor, calm over his brother's fury.

Yuri's volume tripled, now just yelling generally, cheeks reddening at the exertion and his embarrassment.

Yuuri, recognising things were about to spiral out of control (if they hadn’t already) placed a hand on the small of Victor’s back. “Come on, Victor, leave them to play in peace.”

Victor looked back, recognising the serious edge to Yuuri’s gaze. “Okay, okay, okay,” he said lightheartedly, holding up his hands.

They backed off, Yuuri scolding, “That was a little mean.”

“It was funny,” argued Victor, giving a smile back. He pushed a gloved hand inside Yuuri’s pocket.

“Still mean.” said Yuuri.

Yuuri managed another ten minutes of supervising before the outside became too much for him to physically bear.

“Victor,” began Yuuri, “We should go soon. It’s getting dark.” _And cold_ , he added internally.

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand inside his pocket gently. “You are right, _dorogoy_ ,” he agreed, calling, “ _Yurochka_ _! Otabek! Vremya idti!”*_ across the playground.

(*”It’s time to go!”)

There were some grumbles, but the two did as they were told, Yurio muttering something to Otabek that he smiled at.

Yuuri made sure their walk home was brisk, ninety percent sure he was developing hypothermia. Despite this, Yuuri made sure everyone had their shoes off and were inside before following after last.

He sighed in relief, the heating of the Nikiforov’s home causing his glasses to fog up.

“Where is Makkachin?” Yurio asked when they weren’t greeted by the lovable poodle, which surprised Yuuri since all Yuri usually had to say about the animal was that he was a ‘stinky dog.’

“Oh, _Papa_ put him in the kennels so he wouldn’t be alone all day,” shared Victor, teasing, “Do you miss him?”

“No!” Yuri scowled, excusing, “Wanted- wanted to ask when we could get a cat.”

“Oh, yes,” Victor said sarcastically, grinning as Yurio puffed up his cheeks and shoved him.

Shedded of coats, scarves and bags Yurio and Otabek disappeared upstairs to play.

“It’s good to be home,” said Victor, running his hands across a nearby radiator.

Yuuri nodded, moving Victor’s hands out the way gently and hanging the children’s coats over the top of the heat source to dry. “I think I’m going to start dinner now,” he said.

Victor hummed appreciatively. “That sounds good.”

Yuuri knew the layout of Victor’s home well, padding to his kitchen to re-check they had bought everything he needed from the grocery store so he could start. He took out dry ingredients and mixing bowls from cupboards, coming to a halt half-way through checking everything in the fridge.

“Oh no,” sighed Yuuri.

“What?” Victor asked from behind Yuuri, his arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder, peering down.

“I forgot onions,” said Yuuri, shutting the vegetable draw, turning his head in Victor’s direction.

“Would you like me to walk to the shop to get them?” Victor offered.

“It’s okay, we can have it without it.”

“But do you _want_ it?” Victor smiled, knowing Yuuri was only deflecting to cause less trouble.

“No. I mean… if it would not be too much trouble.” Yuuri said shyly.

Victor kissed at his face a few times, reassuring, “Not at all, my _zolotse,”_ before he released his hold and straightened up.

Victor went back into the hallway to put his coat and shoes back on, telling Yuuri he wouldn’t be too long as he left.

“I’ll buy you a stock of gloves too!” he’d jived as Yuuri had shut the door.

Yuuri smiled to himself. He decided he might as well start on dinner anyway, preparing the meat first, listening to Otabek and Yurio play what he thought was hide and seek around the house. It was nice to see Yurio smiling and laughing.

He tried to facetime Phichit for a little, but they ended up giving up thanks to the crappy internet connection, promising they’d call one another the following day instead.

Victor kept sending pictures of himself holding random items at the shop that never ceased to make Yuuri laugh, he wasn’t even sure why it was so funny, probably just because it was Victor doing it. He was much too camera shy to send back selfies of his own, instead responding with emojis and images of how dinner was coming along.

He sliced up the fried pork and left it to air out on kitchen paper, cleaning up the frying pan to be reused as Yuri and Otabek wrapped up their game.

They both came through into the kitchen, Yurio getting a couple of juice boxes out of the fridge, offering Otabek the choice between orange and apple. He took the orange, cheeks red from running about. Yurio came over to the counter, straw in his mouth, peeking over the edge at what Yuuri was making.

“What is this?” Yurio asked, pointing to the meat cooling on the side.

“ _Tonkatsu._ ” answered Yuuri, “It’s deep fried pork for dinner.”

“Only that?”

“No, there will be more ingredients,” Yuuri smiled, “It’s called _katsudon._ It’s a rice bowl with egg and the meat on top.”

Yurio nodded, Otabek rising up onto his toes and closing his eyes to take in a few breaths of the pork Yuuri had already made. It smelled tasty.

“...Can Otabek and me help?” queried Yurio, kicking the edge of the counter gently with a socked foot.

Yuuri looked surprised, expression shifting into an encouraging smile. “Of course.”

He set Otabek on the task of beating an egg whilst he talked Yurio through the production of the sauce he was going to fry the tonkatsu in. He went to get the rice out of the rice cooker once it was finished steaming, tipping it into a colander. Yuuri found another bowl after a quick search to season the rice in.  

“Please pass me the rice vinegar, Otabek?” requested Yuuri since it was closest to him.

Otabek didn’t look up, over at the sink to watch steam rising from the rice in the colander.

Yuuri opened his mouth to repeat his words.

“He speaks no English,” Yurio walked over to his friend to grab the bottle for Yuuri. He brought it back and pushed it into the teen’s hand, not looking up.

“Oh,” said Yuuri. Suddenly, Otabek’s ignorance made sense. Yuuri tried again, *“ _Izvini, Otabeka, ty…_ ” he paused as he struggled for the right phrasing.

The moment he began speaking Russian the boy looked up, which only caused Yuuri to feel worse.

*“ _ya duma ty znayesh' angliyskiy,_ ” continued Yuuri.

(*”Sorry, Otabek, I thought that you knew English.”)

Otabek gave a nod when he’d finished, eyes showing he’d listened patiently despite the straight line his mouth was in. He replied with a simple, *“ _Khorosho._ ”

(*”It’s okay.”)

Yuuri smiled, and the edges of Otabek’s mouth tugged up slightly too.

Victor returned home shortly after with the green onions, helping with the last little bits of preparation before they all sat down around the kitchen table to eat.

“ _Itadakimasu!_ ” Yuuri said cheerily, using his chopsticks to eat whilst the rest of the table opted for forks.

“It’s really good,” said Victor, rice stuck to his face after a couple of mouthfuls. He gave a smile.

“Yurio and Otabek did a great job helping.”

Yurio puffed out his chest in pride.

Yuuri reached out a hand to brush the grains of rice from the corner of Victor’s mouth with a thumb.

“Ew,” Yurio complained, deflating.

Otabek screwed up his nose.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Yurio,” teased Victor, “You’ll be doing that for Otabek soon once you’re married.”

“Ew!” Yurio yelled louder, stuffing his mouth with spiced pork.

Yuuri and Victor laughed.

-

With dinner finished, Victor suggested they ate dessert in the living room before it got too late to watch a film. Yuuri readily agreed, deciding he’d leave the mess on the dining table until after Yurio and Otabek were in bed.

“ _Klubnika dlya Yurio,”_ said Yuuri as he passed over a bowl overflowing with strawberry ice-cream to Yurio, a similar sized portion of chocolate going to Otabek, _“i shokolad dlya Otabeka.”*_

(*“Strawberry for Yurio, and chocolate for Otabek.”)

 _“Blagodarya.”*_ They said in unison. Yuuri had never seen Victor’s brother as happy as he looked right then with a mountain of frozen goodness in front of him, Yuri immediately shovelling ice cream into his mouth like he hadn’t just eaten two helpings of Katsudon.

(*”Thank-you.”)

“Have you decided what we are watching?” Yuuri asked his boyfriend, whom was currently sat on the floor looking through a box of DVDs, half distracted by his own bowl of dessert.

“Not yet. I’m trying to find something we can all watch that is not a children’s film.”

Yuuri hummed and rested his hands on his shoulders affectionately, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Ghost movie!” Yurio gave his input, Otabek nodding his head in agreement. Yuuri found Otabek’s ready agreement amusing considering he know knew Otabek had no idea what his friend was saying.

“No, bad idea. It will just give you nightmares,” replied Victor.

“No it won’t,” said Yuri.

“Yes it will,” said Victor.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No! No! No! No!” Yurio stood up on the sofa. His ice-cream bowl jiggled dangerously on the edge of the couch cushion, and Yuuri rushed over to steady it.

“ _Fine_ ,” Victor gave in as the child tantrumed, warning, “but you better stay in your room tonight, Yuri.”

Yurio cheered and dropped back down onto his bottom. Yuuri couldn’t find the energy to tell Yuri to be more careful, simply handing his ice-cream bowl back over and sitting down.

Victor got up to put the film on, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Yuuri’s mouth upon return as everyone got comfortable on the sofa.

-

It was little after ten PM when Yuri and Otabek were finally settled in bed. The ice-cream had being a disastrous idea, with the sugar rush making it incredibly difficult for the teenagers to convince the children to change into their PJs and get into bed.

Well, _Yuri_ was difficult, Otabek was pretty placid throughout the entire thing, but Yuri made enough trouble for the two of them combined, refusing to brush his teeth and sitting at the bottom of the stairs for twenty minutes whilst Victor told him in increasingly desperate words it was time to go to sleep.

Yuuri managed it eventually, promising the little tiger he’d make them pancakes first thing if he got settled, which he did sharply at the promise of more of Yuuri’s cooking.

“You’re the child-whisper,” said Victor, impressed. He slid his phone back into his pocket.

Yuuri rolled his eyes and waved a hand, starting to clear up. “Food blackmail,” he answered simply, which amused Victor.

“Let me help.” Victor got up, beginning to pick up the empty cans, heading back to the kitchen to grab a garbage bag.

They chatted quietly as they cleared up, pushing about the living room furniture so Victor could roll out the futon, grabbing sheets from the cupboard to make up their bed.  Clearing the dirty dishes, Victor suggested they leave it until morning.

“The food will stick if we leave it any longer.” Yuuri was already twisting the hot tap on, tone mildly scolding as he filled up the sink with suds.

Victor sighed, coming up behind Yuuri to wrap his arms around his middle, resting his head against his shoulder. “My boyfriend,” he said fondly, “forever the responsible one.”

“Someone has to be,” chided Yuuri back, tilting his head onto Victor’s, resting a hand on top of the ones secured against his abdomen.

Victor huffed a laugh, pressing a few affectionate kisses to Yuuri’s jawline before he drew away to grab a tea towel, beginning to dry up and put away. He was careful to open and close cupboards with a gentle hand, not wanting any noise to reach his brother’s bedroom.

When they were finished, Yuuri drained the sink and collected his travel bag from Victor’s bedroom, disappearing upstairs to use the bathroom to change in.

When Yuuri came back downstairs he found Victor with his hair down, in his pyjamas too. They were lime green, buttoned up to the collar, and Yuuri thought he looked suitably adorable in them with his sleepy eyes. He’d made the futon into a makeshift mattress whilst Yuuri had been gone, clean sheets down, a mountain of blankets folded beside it.

“I know how easy you get cold, so I made sure to get plenty of these from the cupboard,” Victor gestured to the blankets.

Victor’s bouts of thoughtfulness never ceased to please Yuuri, who smiled and thanked him in response, folding out a couple of the blankets to lay over the duvet.

“I like it when your hair is like this,” said Yuuri once they were settled. He ran his fingers through the locks, the sensation silky thanks to all of the conditioner Victor would pile on in the shower.

Victor smiled, leaning into his hand, moving to touch Yuuri’s face, drawing him in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, but Yuuri was enthusiastic to deepen it, threading his fingers more securely into the older’s hair.

“Ah, Yuuri…” Victor breathed as his boyfriend nibbled at his bottom lip, and there was nothing Yuuri’s ears had ever heard that was sweeter.

Looking back, Yuuri couldn’t believe how anxious he’d been about leaving Japan for a whole year to study in another country, how close he’d been to backing out.

He remembered how he’d almost begged his school to cancel his exchange so he could spend another year alternating between school, the Ice-castle, Minako-sensei’s and his bedroom. He remembered throwing up so many time the night before his flight his sister had to come through and comfort the crying, dry-heaving mess he’d become on the bathroom floor. He remembered how he’d stepped off the plane in Russia, alone and scared, unable to find his host mother.

He remembered his first day of high school, being forced to the front of the class and stammering out an introduction in broken Russian. He remembered the encouraging smile he’d received from a beautiful Russian boy on the front row. Victor. Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri pulled away and found that beautiful Russian boy smiling back at him.

He was so happy he’d forced himself into the unknown.

Yuuri initiated a second kiss. They tasted one another familiarly, and Yuuri welcomed Victor’s tongue against his own, shifting a knee that brushed up against Victor’s crotch as he moved to straddle him.

Victor pulled away and gasped, unable to hold back the sound. “Yuuri,” he sounded anxious, “I’m not-”

“It’s okay.” Yuuri was quick, immediate to reassure. He smoothed back Victor’s hair, “I know, you’re not ready. That was an accident.”

Victor relaxed, going back to kissing Yuuri, hands coming to rest tentatively against his waist, straying no further.

The broke apart, basking in one another for a little while. Victor’s eyes were warm, and Yuuri let a hand dance up his neck to his face, caressing there gently.

“Ready for bed?” asked Yuuri.

Victor nodded.

Yuuri leaned up for the lamp as Victor got settled under the covers, blue eyes peeking out from them, long hair splayed out against his pillow. The sight made Yuuri’s chest warm as the light dissipated with a click, the couple cuddling in together in the darkness.

“Good night, Yuuri.” Victor’s smile was audible in his voice.

“Good night, Victor.”

-

“ _Vitya. Vitya…_ ”

Yuuri was brought out of his slumber by soft voices, blinking blearily through the darkness. He lay silently for a while, eyes adjusting to the darkness of Victor’s living room. He listened to mutterings of Russian for a while, recognising them as Victor and his brother’s.

He rubbed at his eyes and unfolded his glasses, pushing them onto his face. “Victor, is everything okay?” he asked, English becoming a little muddled due to his half-asleep state. He sat up, feeling around for the lamp which he switched on with a click.

Both Victor and Yurio winced at the sudden light, shielding his eyes from the glare. Otabek, who was stood behind his friend, looked unfazed.

 _“Sumimasen,”_ Yuuri quickly apologised.

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” Victor gave a soft smile as he squinted in his direction, explaining, “Just nightmares.”

Yurio’s face reddened, embarrassed. He scowled through it. “Not me. Otabek.”

Yuuri doubted this, Otabek seeming contented and sleep-ridden in his pyjamas, stood behind his friend.

“That’s no good,” Yuuri spoke gently, tone heavy with sleep, patting the space of futon beside him,  “How about you sleep down here with Victor and I?”

Yurio looked ready to reject the offer, but Otabek, to his surprise, was already approaching. He pulled back the duvet, climbing under in between the two teenagers and looked to Yurio to join them.

After a pause, Yurio did so without objection.

“Didn’t I say scary movies were a bad idea?” said Victor as he shifted for their additions, looking a few sentences off a ‘told you so.’

“Not scared,” argued Yurio weakly.

Yuuri clicked off the light, hushing them both. It was cold in Victor’s living room, all four of them shifting together to share the body heat, Otabek and Yuri sandwiched together between their caretakers.

They slept peacefully until dawn.

 


	2. Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wonderful art that was made to accompany the fic made by the lovely, perfect [ohno-art](http://ohno-art.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Please check her out, she's super talented and a super sweetheart. uwu

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